


[this is the long way down]

by ephemerall



Series: the long way down [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows the moment he thinks it that it’s selfish; he shouldn’t ask Dean to do this, but he needs this, and there is no one else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[this is the long way down]

He knows the moment he thinks it that it’s selfish; he shouldn’t ask Dean to do this, but he needs this, and there is no one else.  He watches Dean pressing soft kisses into his skin, sucking a bruise into his hip, touching him everywhere except where Sam needs it most.  Sam tips his head back, exposing the long line of this throat, Dean’s fingers working slow and steady inside of him.  He groans.  “Dean, please,” he begs.

 

“I’ve got you,” Dean says, kissing Sam’s stomach, the dip of his chest, his neck.  This time is better than the last, Lucifer not lurking in corners and adding unwanted commentary.  Without the distraction of imaginary torturers, Sam can enjoy it, really feel it.

 

Dean reaches for the lube, up by Sam’s shoulder, and squeezes a generous amount into his palm. Sam watches while he slicks up his cock, feeling his own blurt pre-come onto his stomach at just the thought of Dean sliding into him.  “God, Dean,” he moans.  “Please.”

 

Dean shuts him up with his mouth, sucking at Sam’s lips and tongue, and Sam loses his breath when Dean slides in, one slow, inexorable thrust.  It feels so good he could cry with it.  Dean moves slow and deliberate, sliding over Sam’s prostate and making him cry out into Dean’s mouth.  “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, sliding his mouth over Sam’s chin, jaw, and finally biting the soft skin of his neck, sucking blood to the surface.  Sam’s been on edge for too long, he needs more.

 

“Harder,” he tells Dean, and Dean is nothing if not obedient.  Sam’s grateful that Dean knows him so well, knows that he can take it when Dean thrusts in hard, just like he asked for.  Sam doesn’t always like it like this; sometimes he likes it slow and soft, letting Dean take his time, but this time – this time he needs it rough, needs to drown out all the bloody images Lucifer forgot to take with him when he jumped-ship a few days ago.

 

“You feel so good, Sammy,” Dean murmurs into his neck, thrusting in sharp, short jabs.

 

“Dean, I need…” he swallows hard.  He’s been hiding it so long now, he doesn’t know how to give it words; he knows it’s going to hurt Dean that he didn’t say something sooner, it’s going to scare him too, but Sam _needs_ this.  He can’t force the words out, so instead, he takes Dean’s right hand from where it was resting on the bone of his hip and slides it up slow.  Dean lifts his face from Sam’s neck and looks down at him; Sam could drown in that look.  He guides Dean’s hand up past his chest, lingers on his clavicle, and finally brings it to rest over his throat.  Dean lets his hand rest there, and Sam knows that Dean doesn’t understand what he’s asking.  He slides his hand over Deans, forces his hand to squeeze – just a little.  Dean’s expression changes almost instantly.

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Please,” Sam whispers.  “Dean, I need --” his words dissolve into a guttural moan when Dean’s fingers squeeze.  His cock jerks between them, and Dean doesn’t fail to notice.  He holds Dean’s gaze, and it’s easy to see Dean is confused, a little concerned, a little bit scared, but he gives Sam what he needs.  Sam slides his hands down over Dean’s back to his hips, grasps them tight and pulls Dean in hard.  The sensation is something explosive, a dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure, a bright hot-spot that makes his eyes roll back in his head.  “Tighter,” he whispers and after a moment’s hesitation, Dean’s fingers squeeze tighter around his throat; he can still breathe, but he has to work for it.  He squeezes Dean’s hips to let him know he wants it harder; if he could talk he’d tell Dean, ‘ _fuck me like you mean it_!’ but Dean gets the message just fine.

 

He’s so close – Dean’s hips are angled just right, he’s pounding into Sam hard enough to rock the bed, and the look on his face tells Sam that Dean is just as close, just balancing on that edge.  Sam looks up at him, silently asking him to squeeze tighter, and Dean gets the message, tightens his fingers until Sam can’t pull in air.  Dean’s cock drives over his prostate hard, and Sam arches up, heart pounding, and comes between them, striping up Dean’s belly and his own, even his chest.  He hasn’t come that hard in a long time, and Dean follows, thrusting in deep and staying.

 

He slowly releases Sam’s throat, and Sam swallows; it’s sore, probably will be for the rest of the day, but that’s what he wanted.  He sucks in air, panting and waiting for his heart to slow.  Dean is panting above him, looking down at him with an expression that’s a mixture of hurt and anxiousness and love.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam croaks.  “I shouldn’t have – shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”

 

Dean pushes the hair off of his forehead. “I get it,” Dean says softly and leans down to kiss him.  “I’m just…I’m not sure why, Sammy.”

 

Sam looks away.  He doesn’t want to discuss the cage, not right now.  “I – I can’t, Dean.  Not right now.”  He swallows hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. The last thing he wants to talk about is all the things Lucifer and Michael did to him.  Dean kisses his temple, and then kisses him softly on the mouth.

 

“We can talk about it later,” Dean says.  Sam winces as Dean eases out of him and lies down next to him.  “You’ll let me know when you’re ready to tell me, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam answers.  He knows talking about things makes Dean uncomfortable, but he’s grateful that Dean understands that this is something he needs to tell him about, and that it’s something he can’t give words to right now.  He’s grateful that his brother is there, pressed close and warm, drowning out the horrors that he can’t escape.


End file.
